11-24-2023, 07:30 PM
With irritation, Vale, closed the wooden shutters of his apothecary shop,leaving the room in almost complete darkness except by a dwindling candle burning in his working table were fresh herbs and his old pestle and mortar still held remians of a healing salve for minor burns he had been working on to restock his supply for the shop.
Sometimes Vale got frustrated and irritanted by the large flow of people in the streets. The town had a large population, dark elves villages were always packed to the brim for the land they could settle in was sacarse. That meant dark elf settlements never became more than slums were poverty and misery where at the order of the day.
With all that talking and buzzing, he could hardly concentrate on what was trully important to him : his whitchcraft and use of natural potions. With this he meant the use of real magic, like bidding a lesser being to do his will by using blood control, or making the dead walk just because he was capable of doing so. Yet, he was stuck making salves and ointments to ease the pain of old bones, burns or any mild ailment thanks to the regime placed by the light elves. It was funny they had taken over,they were so scared of magic, yet claimed to have the moral highground in the discusion regarding magic, or black magic as they would name it.
Now that he had made all costumers leave and had everything closed, perhaps he could...engage in his dark arts a little. Just a moment to get that feeling rushing through his body. His hand hesitsted over the locked drawer where he kept one of his magic books, yet even with a closed shop, it was still the afternoon and any sign or odor could give him away in case a traitor decided to tattletale on him in exchange for a few coins, just enough to buy a loaf of hard bread to eat something.
Drops of sweat ran down his forehead, making his light mauve skin glisten in the candle light. His eyes were a icy violet color and his gaze was a indication he was older than what his body actually showed.he had black raven hair he kept long and tidy usually in a pony tail as he worked. He reached for the silver key in his poket, to open the drawer when he sensed disturbance in the backshop.
Vale quickly stood apart from the drawer as if he had been burned by a scorching metal and hid the key in the deepest side of his pocket. "Go away! Its closed!" he called angrily as he tried to cover his own fear that maybe someone had known his intentions on practicing some old dark magic and had warned the light authorities. He would be taken and beheaded just by the mere attempt of casting magic.
His heart settled as he recognized the figure walking now through his wooden shelves. He even felt stupid for it was a beloved figure. "I will say it again, its closed. Can't you light elves read?" he asked, yet his tone was playful and gone was the initial threat of his tone. Life and destiny were peculiar. No matter how much he hated light elves and what they stood for, he had ended falling in love with a member of such a pathetic race. His lover was a exception though, he was the only light elf he tolerated (he would never admit he was the only he had actually met) "I was expecting you at midnight" he said wondering what was up. His beloved came at dead times of night where no one would notice a diplomat walking through the darkest parts of the slums. Sometimes he had been the one to make the pilgrimage to the best side of town where his lover resides, yet it was tougher for him to slid unnoticed as a diplomat had men to his service and soldiers to keep him safe from the "dark savages".
Sometimes Vale got frustrated and irritanted by the large flow of people in the streets. The town had a large population, dark elves villages were always packed to the brim for the land they could settle in was sacarse. That meant dark elf settlements never became more than slums were poverty and misery where at the order of the day.
With all that talking and buzzing, he could hardly concentrate on what was trully important to him : his whitchcraft and use of natural potions. With this he meant the use of real magic, like bidding a lesser being to do his will by using blood control, or making the dead walk just because he was capable of doing so. Yet, he was stuck making salves and ointments to ease the pain of old bones, burns or any mild ailment thanks to the regime placed by the light elves. It was funny they had taken over,they were so scared of magic, yet claimed to have the moral highground in the discusion regarding magic, or black magic as they would name it.
Now that he had made all costumers leave and had everything closed, perhaps he could...engage in his dark arts a little. Just a moment to get that feeling rushing through his body. His hand hesitsted over the locked drawer where he kept one of his magic books, yet even with a closed shop, it was still the afternoon and any sign or odor could give him away in case a traitor decided to tattletale on him in exchange for a few coins, just enough to buy a loaf of hard bread to eat something.
Drops of sweat ran down his forehead, making his light mauve skin glisten in the candle light. His eyes were a icy violet color and his gaze was a indication he was older than what his body actually showed.he had black raven hair he kept long and tidy usually in a pony tail as he worked. He reached for the silver key in his poket, to open the drawer when he sensed disturbance in the backshop.
Vale quickly stood apart from the drawer as if he had been burned by a scorching metal and hid the key in the deepest side of his pocket. "Go away! Its closed!" he called angrily as he tried to cover his own fear that maybe someone had known his intentions on practicing some old dark magic and had warned the light authorities. He would be taken and beheaded just by the mere attempt of casting magic.
His heart settled as he recognized the figure walking now through his wooden shelves. He even felt stupid for it was a beloved figure. "I will say it again, its closed. Can't you light elves read?" he asked, yet his tone was playful and gone was the initial threat of his tone. Life and destiny were peculiar. No matter how much he hated light elves and what they stood for, he had ended falling in love with a member of such a pathetic race. His lover was a exception though, he was the only light elf he tolerated (he would never admit he was the only he had actually met) "I was expecting you at midnight" he said wondering what was up. His beloved came at dead times of night where no one would notice a diplomat walking through the darkest parts of the slums. Sometimes he had been the one to make the pilgrimage to the best side of town where his lover resides, yet it was tougher for him to slid unnoticed as a diplomat had men to his service and soldiers to keep him safe from the "dark savages".